For What It's Worth, It Was Worth All The While
by acetamide
Summary: If there’s one thing that Merlin’s learnt in his time at Camelot, it’s that people always leave.


_For What It's Worth It Was Worth All The While_

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If there's one thing that Merlin's learnt in his time at Camelot, it's that people always leave.

When he leaves Ealdor for the first time, setting out on the dusty path with his belongings close to his back, it's both a beginning and an end. It hurts, of course – a deep, bone-aching pain that slowly eases as he spends more time at Camelot, and his definition of home changes. He still misses his mother, he always will, but Arthur soothes the wounds with his grins. Then he has to leave all over again, and this time it's only Arthur by his side that stops him from turning around and running back into his mother's arms.

When Lancelot leaves Camelot, Merlin knows that he'll return one day but he still feels as though something important is gone from his life. A true friend, one who knows his secret, who knows him and understands him – in some ways it's more than Arthur will ever be, and less than Arthur can be. Merlin watches him go from Arthur's window until the Prince returns to his chambers, the light fading around them.

When Will dies, for a while it's just as though he's left. Merlin can't quite come to terms with the fact that he'll never see him again but when he finally does realise it, he curls up in a ball on his bedroom floor and quietly sobs into his scarf. Gwen finds him, two hours later, and sits down beside him.

Merlin knows all about leaving. He's done it before, and he knows that he'll do it again.

* * *

When Arthur finds out about his magic, it's not the epically heroic reveal that Merlin had been hoping for. He's not just saved Arthur from a dangerous creature, or vengeful witch, or even a natural disaster. No, he's fallen asleep curled up on the huge warm bed and when the nightmare comes, his magic reacts accordingly.

He's woken roughly, Arthur's hands insistent on his shoulder and his voice penetrating the fogginess clouding his ears.

When he forces his eyes open to see what all the fuss is about, it's to see half of the furniture levitating a few feet off the ground, and Arthur's eyed wild and wide above him. He blinks, and the drawers and chairs and table and bed come crashing down to the ground.

Arthur is silent, and Merlin scrambles back up the bed, stuttering as he slips on the cool sheets.

"Arthur, I… I swear, I didn't… you don't…" he manages before trailing off, and Arthur regards him coolly but not angrily. That alone is enough to silence Merlin.

"You need to leave Camelot," Arthur says with a shocking finality, and Merlin feels his gut rebel at the notion. He slides from the bed as Arthur crosses to stand over by the table, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he goes.

"Arthur, look, I – I would have told you. I _did _tell you, months ago, when Gwen was accused of being a sorcerer, remember? And I swear that I have never done anything to hurt you. I've always protected you, you have to believe me."

"I do," Arthur says softly, staring into the roaring fire, and the wind rattles at the windows. "And that's why you have to leave. All the time that you've been here, you've been practising magic right in front of me. Saving my life, saving my _father's_ life with sorcery when even the slightest wrong move could have you discovered."

"Look, I've not been caught yet, have I?" Merlin reasons, trying not to press too hard, already immensely grateful that Arthur isn't threatening to throw him in the stocks or lock him away or tell his father. "I'll just be more careful, it'll be fine."

"It won't be _fine_, Merlin," Arthur snaps, his temper rising, and Merlin raises one hand slowly, bringing it to rest on Arthur's shoulder. "You'll be in danger if you stay here. You've been in danger since you arrived, and I won't have you risking yourself any more."

"But I don't need to!" Merlin persists, and Arthur picks up a goblet full of water, raising it to his lips and taking a large gulp. The movement dislodges Merlin's hand and it falls to his side, bereft. "Like you said, I've been hiding here all this time. I'm pretty good at it – if I hadn't had the nightmare you never would have known. I promise you, nobody's going to find out, I'll just –"

"It's not you being discovered that I'm worried about!" Arthur suddenly rages, and he whirls to throw his cup against the fireplace. It bounces off the stone with a harsh clang, landing on the floor and rolling to a stop by Merlin's foot. "It's you getting yourself killed for me!"

And really, Merlin has nothing to say to that. Because it's just like Arthur to be worried about Merlin's safety for entirely noble reasons, and he closes his mouth abruptly.

"You need to pack your belongings," Arthur says quietly, hands coming up to hold Merlin's upper arms in a loose grip as he stares down at the floor. "You need to be ready to leave before the sun begins to rise."

"Arthur, please."

"You need to say your goodbyes tonight. There won't be time in the morning. And you can't tell them where you're going, or why, just… hope that they'll understand."

Arthur's voice breaks at last part, his voice turning into a choked sob, and Merlin feels all of the fight drain out of him, just like that, and he realises that this isn't a fight that he's going to win.

"OK," he whispers, bringing his own hand up to pat Arthur's shoulder awkwardly. "OK. I'll see you in the morning?"

Arthur nods, a brief, curt nod, and releases him.

Merlin doesn't look back as he leaves.

* * *

Merlin lies in bed for hours tossing and turning, listening to the wind howling outside, his possessions packed up into the pack that he brought from Ealdor, propped up at the foot of his bed. He didn't say goodbye to anyone, as it happens – instead, he's written a letter to Gaius, explaining exactly what's happened and asking that he think of something appropriate to tell Gwen and Morgana. It's a cowardly way to go about it, he knows, but it's also easier. He doesn't think he'd be able to handle real goodbyes. He's had enough experience to know that he's not very good at them.

The dawn isn't far off and he hasn't slept at all when he finally jumps to his feet, stalking past his pack and down the steps from his room. Now that he's had time to think about it he knows that he can't leave, not without a fight. He was stupid to have agreed to it – this is his destiny, as the dragon keeps telling him, and that's something that he can't change. But he can rise to meet it, and that's what he has every intention of doing.

He bursts into Arthur's room without knocking and without considering that the Prince might be fast asleep. So it's just as well that Arthur is in fact wide awake and dressed in his hunting leathers, and his face is drawn and pale and his eyes tired and Merlin has time to realise that he's not got any sleep either before he launches into his argument.

"I'm not going," he says firmly, and Arthur stares at him, unmoving beside the table. "I don't care what you do. There is no way that I am leaving you – I don't care about the risks. I've put myself in danger to save you before, I've offered up my _life_, and I would do it again in a heartbeat. I'm not scared. And it's my destiny to protect you and if you think that I'm going to… that I'm going to just walk away from you, then you really don't know me at all."

Arthur's staring at him as though he's mad, and everything begins to feel _off _in Merlin's chest. Like he's missing something, something important, but then it's gone when Arthur coughs awkwardly, turning away.

"Very well," he says gruffly, waving a vague hand in the direction of the door. "You may stay in Camelot. But Merlin, I swear…"

"I know," Merlin says hurriedly, startled by Arthur's acceptance of his refusal. "I'll be careful. And I'll not lie to you, I'll tell you everything."

"Good," Arthur says shortly, and looks for a moment as though he wants to say something else – but then he turns away, bowing his head. "Now go."

Merlin doesn't need telling twice, and he slips quickly from the room. He's entirely confused by this point, because Arthur's reactions this evening have been so completely out of character that he's beginning to think that perhaps he's had some sort of enchantment cast over him.

He gets halfway down the corridor when he realises that Arthur's sudden acceptance of his outburst isn't settling right on his chest, and he turns back, scowling heavily, schooling his features into an expression of determination as he reaches the still-open door.

He glances through the gap and sees Arthur, and slows to a halt, holding onto the jamb with one hand as he watches him move.

Arthur is over by his bed and one of his larger packs that he takes if they're on a hunting trip is laid out on the blankets before him. He's unpacking it, taking out clothes and weapons and food, his movements slow and deliberate, putting everything back where it belongs.

Everything suddenly clicks and Merlin feels like the idiot that Arthur says he is, and he backs silently away from the door. He can't help the smile that forms on his face as he walks back to Gaius' chambers, something warm and unexpected flaring in his chest. It's moments like these that Merlin suspects that Arthur might truly love him, and when he sees that Arthur doesn't need a crown to make him a king.

He gives his pack a half-hearted kick as he passes it, resolving to unpack it as soon as he wakes, pulling off his clothes and sliding back into bed.

Maybe this time, leaving wouldn't have been so bad after all.

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_end._

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End file.
